The Olive Branch
by Dreamer In Silico
Summary: COMPLETE. Sarah is not looking forward to spending Thanksgiving alone.  A last-minute dinner invitation from Jareth means company for the holiday, and it may just be the thing to make their years of feuding take a turn for the better...
1. Invitation

_This is a Thanksgiving special short story - to my Talespinner readers, your regularly-scheduled Labyrinth programming will resume next week. =) The Olive Branch will be posted in three (maybe four, depending on how long the last section gets) installments over the next few days, and will definitely be concluded by the end of the weekend. I wanted to indulge in a fun idea I had and switch gears a bit from the other story; hopefully you'll enjoy reading this as much as I did writing it, whether or not you celebrate Turkey Day where you're from!_

_Disclaimer: Sarah, Jareth, the Labyrinth, and its other characters are owned by the Jim Henson Company._

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**The Olive Branch**

**Chapter 1: Invitation**

_by Dreamer In Silico_**  
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Sarah shuffled through the grey, half-melted slush on the sidewalk, her skin reddened by the chilly air, and her eyes as clouded-over as the sky. Despite the padding that her thick wool coat provided, the strap of her messenger bag cut into her shoulder as if the coat was not even there, the books inside it weighing her down like a load of bricks. Her tiny apartment, when she reached it, would be cold and dark, with lights off and furnace set to low to save money while she was in class each day. The prospect was a particularly unpleasant one today – it was the day before Thanksgiving, and on every previous year, Sarah had been either already with her family by this time, or preparing to travel to see them. She had had a cheerful Toby and the veritable feast that her father and Karen always put together for the holiday to look forward to. This year, her first in law school, that would not be the case.

She had called her family two weeks earlier, intending to make arrangements to visit, and had been surprised and disappointed to hear that Toby would be staying with a friend for the weekend while Robert and Karen traveled to see Karen's extended family. Sarah barely knew the Thompsons, and could not have afforded the plane ticket to get to Maine, where they lived, at any rate. She had tried not to be upset about the situation, reminding herself that it was perfectly reasonable for her father and stepmother to do something different for Thanksgiving this year… but she had fervently wished they had told her of their plans sooner. By the time she found out, all of her own friends had already made arrangements, and she did not feel comfortable with the idea of fishing for a last-minute invitation.

And so she would spend this year's Thanksgiving alone, probably reading case studies for class, no less. Over the course of the preceding two weeks, Sarah had become increasingly unhappy at the prospect.

By the time she reached her door, her boots were caked with slush, her toes had gone numb from the chill, and her mood had progressed from grumpy to positively foul. She stomped her feet on the welcome mat irritably, knocking the dirty snow and ice from the boots as best she could before going inside and making a bee-line for the thermostat. It was thirty-four outside, and no warmer than fifty in her apartment, and that needed to change, _yesterday_.

After tossing her messenger bag unceremoniously beside her desk, Sarah turned on the shower as hot as it would get and closed the bathroom door to let the steam warm at least that tiny space quickly. It had become her habit to shower as soon as she got home to warm herself up while the heater did its work with the rest of the apartment. By the time she left the shower, the temperature was usually at least tolerable outside it.

When Sarah emerged fifteen minutes later in fleece pajamas and thick socks, she was feeling fractionally better. It was amazing how far warm toes could go toward improving a mood.

She hung up her coat, slacks, and button-down shirt, smoothing out the wrinkles from their crumpled stay on the bathroom floor, and turned to head for the kitchen, thinking about brewing a hot cup of –

_CRASH_.

Sarah groaned. _Damn. Wait for it…_

"Oops."

"Widget, lady-Sarah say not to knock things…"

"CANDY-CUBES!"

"Oooooh, move over!"

Well, at least her cold, empty apartment was neither cold nor empty anymore.

Resigned, Sarah rounded the corner to the kitchenette. Sure enough, two goblins were squatting in the middle of the floor, munching happily on sugar cubes from the spilled tin. At the sound of Sarah's approach, both turned their heads to look up at her sheepishly.

The larger of the two spoke first, his voice a high-pitched squeak as he pointed a spindly finger at his friend. "Widget knocked box off shelf, lady-Sarah. Woobie try to clean little cubes up for you," he informed her while wiggling his tufted ears expressively.

The smaller goblin's knobby nose turned bright pink as he sputtered indignantly. "Widget also cleaning! Silly box was… was in the way." He nodded vigorously.

Sarah shook her head, laughing despite herself. "Right. Cleaning. Why don't you try putting the cubes back in the _box_? That's usually a bit faster."

"…Oh." Widget looked down at the remaining sugar cubes, then back up at Sarah. "This much tastier, though!"

Sarah snorted. "I'm sure." Crouching next to the goblins, she scooped the spilled cubes back into the tin – surely the floor was clean enough – and then stood to tuck it into a high cabinet, where she hoped it would remain unmolested for at least another week. Both Widget and Woobie were looking forlornly at the cabinet, but they brightened when she placed one more sugar cube in each of their hands.

She turned to the refrigerator to grab her pitcher of filtered water to finally make the cup of tea she had been coveting, asking over her shoulder, "Now what has you two here today? Did you get threatened with the Bog again?" She opened the refrigerator door and –

"GAH!" She yelped in surprise to see a particularly tiny goblin sitting square in the center of the top shelf, holding his shoulders and shivering.

"Ss-s-s-sarah!" he exclaimed, teeth chattering. "Why this box so _cold_?"

Sarah rubbed at the bridge of her nose, willing herself to gather up the last fragile shreds of calm that her shower had imparted and refrain from dropkicking all three goblins out the door. They somehow managed to try her patience no less when they were attempting to be friendly than when their King had sent them explicitly to plague her.

"Because it's a refrig – it's an _icebox_, Vix. It's for keeping food cold so it doesn't go bad," she explained, exasperated, as she lifted the creature out of the fridge and set him on the floor.

"Then why you have a chicken in there?" he asked, looking confused. "There was little chicken on the big lump, and Vix thought it might be warm, like chicken, but it was cold too!"

Sarah frowned for a moment before understanding. The small chicken she had bought to roast in lieu of a turkey had a small cartoon of a hen on the plastic wrapping. "It's a special cold chicken to cook for Thanksgiving dinner tomorrow."

Vix's eyes grew wide as saucers. "Sarah EAT chicken?" He sounded very upset.

Cursing herself silently, Sarah sighed. She would never understand the goblins' all-consuming love for the stupid, smelly birds, but love them they did. "Ahh… it's not a chicken like the ones you have. It's… it's a Cornish hen. Very different."

"Oh. Suppose that's okay, then."

"Silly Vix! No chickens in lady-Sarah's house!" Widget piped up around a mouthful of sugar cube.

"Maybe we should bring her one," Woobie added, thoughtfully. "Sarah need pet for when she get lonely without us around."

"No, no thank you. I don't think I could feed one. Chickens are much pickier than goblins are about their food, I think," she answered wryly as she poured water into the kettle. "This is _very hot_," she said, pointing to the kettle on the stove. "So don't touch it, okay? You won't like what happens if you do."

Vix squeaked in fright. "Bog?"

"Um… no. Just very burnt fingers, probably, but I think that's worse."

"Oh no, lady-Sarah, the Bog is much, much worse," Woobie assured her. "Fingers get burnt all the time, when we set things on fire." He paused, blinking. "…But when we set things on fire, King usually gets mad. And when King gets mad…"

"BOG!" Widget and Vix shouted in unison.

"I see," Sarah said diplomatically. "That makes perfect sense, then. So don't touch the kettle, got it?"

"Got it!" "Gottit." "Gotcha," the trio chorused.

"Good." Sarah flopped into one of two chairs at her kitchen table, wincing as the less-than-adequate padding failed to absorb the impact as much as she would have liked. "Alright. Again, are you three on the run or something? Or did you just really miss my sugar cubes?"

"Erm…" Widget scratched at his large ear, looking skyward.

"Uh, Vix dunno, just following Widg and Woob," Vix said, muffled slightly by the cushion of the other chair, which he seemed to have burrowed under.

"Widget, you was supposed to remember!" Woobie admonished his partner in sugar theft.

"I thought you was gonna remember!" he retorted, nose turning pink again. "Was… was…" his fuzzy eyebrows drew together as he thought very, very hard. "Was a note! Widget has note for lady-Sarah!"

Sarah was taken aback. This was new. "A… a note?"

"YES!" Woobie was not to be outdone by Widget in carrying out his duty as messenger. "King said to take note to lady-Sarah. We bring note here." He elbowed Widget, apparently aiming for the ribs, but connecting with his ear instead as the other goblin hunched over to dig around in his grubby knapsack.

"Oof!" Widget toppled over, sprawled across the knapsack. "Whatcha do that for?" he squawked.

"The note! Hafta find the note, silly boggy-Widget!"

"WIDGET NOT BOGGY!"

"Hey, hey! Calm down, you two." Sarah had to reach down and physically separate the two goblins, for Widget had leaped onto Woobie's shoulders and was pulling at his ears rather viciously. "No one's boggy, and you did well to remember the note."

Woobie beamed at the praise, though Widget was still glaring at his friend as he returned to the sack. After a full minute of digging, he pulled a tiny square of folded paper from it with a triumphant flourish. "Found note for lady-Sarah! Read it, read it!" She accepted the paper, hoping that it had survived its journey in somewhat legible form.

The edges of the folded note were slightly dirty and frayed from the sack, but as she unfolded it, Sarah found that the creases smoothed without a trace, and a tear in the edge mended itself seamlessly before her eyes. Its obvious magical nature, in addition to the flamboyantly gold script, left no ambiguity as to the identity of the sender.

"_To the Lady Sarah Williams – _

_You are cordially invited to a celebratory feast at the Goblin Castle, in the Underground Kingdom, one evening hence. The mortal tradition of the harvest festival has come to our attention, and we would be most honored to enjoy your company for our own observance of the event. Please pen your reply on this letter, and return it in the care of our subjects. They will see to your transportation on the appointed evening in the event of your acceptance. _

_Best regards,_

_His Majesty, Jareth, Master of Mislettered Road Signs, Duke of Impossibly Difficult Mazes, King of the Goblins, and Supreme High Cat-Herder of the Underground_

_P.S. – No oubliettes, Cleaners, Fieries, enchanted fruit, collapsing bridges, biting faeries, dubiously honest playing cards, rude door knockers, upside-down staircases, or monstrous mechanical guardians this time, I promise. And though it pains me sorely that you will likely require such an assurance from me, in light of past differences, I also hereby promise to return you to your home in the mortal world at the hour of your choosing, and that your acceptance of this invitation will not affect your mortal relations (although I send my warmest greetings to Toby, and hope that he remembers me fondly)."_


	2. Decision

_Disclaimer: Sarah, Jareth, the Labyrinth, and its other characters are owned by the Jim Henson Company._

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**The Olive Branch**

**Chapter 2: Decision  
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_by Dreamer In Silico_**  
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Sarah blinked and read the letter again. And again.

Of all the things she might have expected Jareth to send with his goblins – a list which included enchanted peaches, vials of Bog water, angry chickens, and caffeinated Fieries from past experience – a civil, even _polite_ invitation to dinner (with absolutely no demands or threats!) was the very last.

"KING SEND LADY-SARAH LOVE LETTER YET?" Sarah's reverie was shattered by Vix's exuberantly shouted question, though she was unsure whether it was directed at her, or at the other two goblins.

Either way, she blushed a brilliant, rosebud pink at the very suggestion.

"No, Vix, he just invited me to dinner, it seems. Sorry to disappoint you," she managed to say despite being both completely embarrassed and trying not to laugh. "… and I'm sure the glittery bastard has _something_ up his sleeve with this," she muttered under her breath.

Woobie heard her, nonetheless. "Dunno who is 'slippery whackard,' but King ALWAYS have something up his sleeve," he offered helpfully. "Usually scary magic ball-thing that make goblins go to the – "

"BOG!" Widget and Vix shouted again. Sarah was beginning to wonder if they practiced this.

"Right, right, I know. He really loves that bog, huh?"

"Oh yes. Is his favorite place in great big maze," Vix asserted with a shudder.

"Woobie not sure about that. King never go there," Woobie pointed out, reasonably.

"How you know that? King poof off wherever he wants, boggy-Woobie," grumbled Widget, who puffed himself up indignantly at the insult. Sarah hastily stepped between them to forestall another scuffle, which would have taken place dangerously close to her kitchen trash can.

"Maybe I'll ask him when I see him tomorrow, then, since this is such a talked-about question," Sarah grated out.

This time, Vix was quickest on the uptake. "Lady-Sarah say yes to invit- inbita- _note_, then?" he asked.

Sarah's brain, which had been running along quite smoothly, skidded to a screeching, sudden halt.

She hadn't even thought about that before she'd said it. She'd internally rolled her eyes at the long list of qualifications and assurances in the letter and – apparently some other branch of her mental government had gone ahead and pushed the affirmative motion through while the Self-Preservation Committee was too busy being wryly amused. Sarah wasn't sure with whom she was more irritated – Jareth for the deceptively innocuous invitation, or _some_ part of her brain for buying it.

Still more irritating was the fact that even with belated objections raised by the flustered Committee, the "ayes" still soundly held the majority.

_I guess I was more sore about being alone tomorrow than I'd thought. I… suppose that settles it, then. I'll just have to watch out for loopholes and make sure I leave if it looks like he's trying anything tricky… _

_Well, trickier than usual_, she silently amended. _And… well, a chance for a do-over of the last time I saw him would be… _She sighed softly. _It would be nice to have. _

"Um," she began aloud, then cleared her throat and tried again. "I believe I will, yes. It does sound like a much better idea than staying here to eat my scrawny little chi – … Cornish hen… myself, doesn't it?"

"YES!" all three screeched, nearly managing to startle Sarah despite the fact that by this point she was relatively inured to goblin outbursts, having interacted with the creatures off and on for years. Worrying that enough of her neighbors might be home by this hour to take issue with the noise, she resolved to send the little buggers on their loud, bickering way as quickly as possible.

"Well, let me just write my reply, and then you'd better hurry back to the King to give it to him," she said as she rummaged for a pen, relieved at the easy excuse.

She fished up her trusty ballpoint from the pocket of her messenger bag and almost began writing, but after a moment of staring at the page, put the black pen aside and went back to her desk. If any occasion was appropriate for her favorite, but seldom-used fountain pen and its bright amethyst ink, it was surely this one. Fountain pen retrieved, she wrote out a brief note underneath Jareth's post script in her strong, even hand.

"_Thank you for the invitation. I'd love to come. – Sarah"_

She'd accept, but she'd be damned if she was going to match his florid prose.

Sarah carefully folded the letter – it fell back into neat creases with little effort – and handed it back to Widget, who gleefully stuffed it in his knapsack.

"We see you later, lady-Sarah!" he said as he slung the sack onto his back.

"Yes, later! Remember, chickens is not for eating!" Vix reminded her.

Woobie looked down his long nose at the other two in what seemed to be an attempt to act superior, but fell rather short of the mark. "Hurry, hurry! King make you both boggy-heads if we not get lady-Sarah's note back to him."

Widget made a noise that was a cross between a snort and a squeak as he opened the window and stood on the sill. "King make YOU boggy-head too, silly Woob- " he said as he jumped, his words cut off abruptly at what Sarah assumed was his transition into the world of the Underground. Vix and a very huffy Woobie followed suit, the latter shaking his gnarled fist at nothing in particular as he jumped.

Sarah closed the sash behind them with a heavy sigh.

_Finally._

She took the neglected, steaming kettle from the stove to make her much-delayed cup of tea, glad for a bit of peace at last.

She still was not entirely sure what had made her decide to accept the invitation so quickly, and that worried her to no minor degree. The denizens of the Underground had remained a very tangible – and often quite _intrusive_ – presence in her life ever since she defeated the Labyrinth as a teenager. There had been only a single repeat encounter with Jareth himself, right before she left for college, in which he…

…Come to think of it, she had never thought very hard about what, exactly, he had been trying to accomplish on that visit. She had been eighteen, and the only appreciable change that the three years between encounters with Jareth had wrought on her attitude had been to make her even _more_ stubborn and sure of herself, if that was possible. Jareth had come in owl form on a night when the rest of her family was out late, and sat on her windowsill. In his own immaculately beautiful form, he once again wore the grand cape of white feathers, and he had spoken in circles of games and second chances. She had not understood his point, but she had been so certain that he was just sore about losing Toby to her. And so she had argued without knowing the game they played, quite sure that the appropriate course of action was to petulantly disagree with and shoot down anything and everything that he said.

Needless to say, it had not gone well. Sarah winced at the memory, chagrined now by the imperviousness she had shown toward his initial, altogether rather _reasonable_ attempts to communicate… though he had certainly made an ass of himself since.

After that day, the situation between them had shifted from uneasy balance to all-out goblin guerrilla warfare. Jareth's opening salvo had been a handful of goblins, the Two Hundred-Seventeenth Semiannual Chicken Derby qualifying race, and the attendant flurry of large, loud, and horrendously _smelly_ chicken contestants.

In her backyard.

Explaining the feathers, piles of chicken crap, and occasional spiked goblin helmet that had been strewn all over the lawn when her parents returned from work had been… an interesting experience.

_Just getting me ready for law school_, Sarah thought with a dry chuckle. _I suppose I should thank him for the on-the-spot lessons in bullshit, sometime. _

Sarah had caught the next, lone goblin sent to plague her rummaging through her underwear drawer a week later. Rather than acting on her first instinct, which had been to see if Merlin would like a new chew-toy, she had bribed the little wretch – Vix – with a sugar cube, and asked him to bring a whole parcel of "underwear" back to His Majesty. She had then put on thick rubber dishwashing gloves to retrieve baby diapers from the next door neighbors' garbage – thankfully the street lamps had been out that night – wrapped the diapers in an old towel, and sent Vix on his way.

She had fancied she could hear Jareth's roar of fury from her own world as she prepared for bed an hour later. (She had also felt a tiny bit bad for Vix, but she reasoned that a bogging was a much kinder fate than her earlier impulse would have given him. Besides, if he could handle those diapers… she couldn't imagine the Bog could be _that_ much worse!)

And so they had continued, all through college and the following year of her internship in a law firm. Sarah had swiftly gained a reputation for odd habits, talking to herself, and being almost ludicrously prone to comical mishaps. Eccentricities nonwithstanding, she had mastered the less agreeable aspects of her personality well enough by a semester into college that she always had at least a few good friends, and over the years began to consider several of the goblins as… if not friends, at least somewhat amusing nuisances.

It had been several months since Jareth had sent minions explicitly to cause mischief, but they managed enough on their own, particularly after discovering that Sarah always kept several stashes of sweet treats around wherever she was living at the time. She should _never_ have used sugar cubes as bribes, she reflected.

Sarah found it rather surreal to now be contemplating sharing a congenial meal with the Goblin King the very next evening.

What would he say? What would _she_ say? What little catch – because she was certain there was one somewhere – was hidden in this arrangement? How would she deal with it?

The questions chased each other in frenetic circles through Sarah's head for the better part of an hour, until she finally decided to try getting some class work done, if only to quiet the internal dialogue. That effort was only partially successful, and by nine o'clock she had given up entirely, restlessly rummaging through her kitchen with a thought to make a pumpkin pie. It seemed a suitable peace offering to bring with her tomorrow.

Hours later, Sarah fell asleep with her bedside lamp on and a book half-open on her lap, the spicy scents of cinnamon, nutmeg, and cloves yet lingering in the warm air.

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_A/N: I'm glad so many people seemed to like the first chapter! Funny writing usually isn't my thing, so this is a bit of an experiment for me, but it's a fun one. I'd love to see your thoughts and reactions to the chapter. =)  
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_For those who missed the pre-story message last time, Talespinner will be returning next week - this is just some sort fun for the holiday. One chapter to go on this story, or possibly two if Chapter 3 decides to get long.  
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	3. Thanksgiving Day

_Disclaimer: Sarah, Jareth, the Labyrinth, and its other characters are owned by the Jim Henson Company._

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**The Olive Branch**

**Chapter 3: Thanksgiving Day  
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_by Dreamer In Silico_**  
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Three in the afternoon on Thanksgiving Day saw Sarah restlessly tossing aside her stack of case studies, unable to focus despite the quiet fall of icy rain against her window and the wonderfully fragrant pot of tea on the side table. She supposed she might as well get ready to go, since her focus had imploded and she had no real idea when the goblins would be coming to escort her to the castle.

Sarah was halfway through a near-scalding shower when she heard the telltale, chittering laughter coming from the kitchen. Cursing fluently, she resolved to have a little chat with Jareth about inappropriate timing.

_Bastard. _

Sighing, she bundled up tightly in a towel and called toward the kitchen, "I hear you out there – let's play a game!"

Muffled whispering.

"…Game?" came a voice that sounded like Woobie's.

"Yup. The rules are easy – you all have to sit down now and stay put until I get out there. You win the game if you haven't moved the whole time, and if you win, I'll give you a candy-cube… and I have eyes all over my apartment like the King does in the Labyrinth, so I'll see it if you move!"

"CANDY CUBE GAME!" Widget was apparently rather pleased at the idea. Sarah hoped fervently that the game-bribe would keep them from destroying anything important in the next ten minutes while she got dressed.

Standing in front of her tightly-packed closet, she reached for one of her favorite pairs of jeans, but paused.

_I should probably go a bit nicer for a dinner date…_

… _Oh, hell. _

_Is that what this is?_ She fervently wished that she had better insight into his motive for the invitation.

_It feels like a peace offering, but everything I've ever thought I knew about him says otherwise. _She laughed quietly to herself, pawing through outfits. _And yet, things are not always what they seem in the Labyrinth. I don't think that quite made it through my skull when I was younger. _

She emerged from the bedroom in short order, wearing a comfortable knee-length dress and striped tights that would _never_ have flown in front of her professors. All things considered, Sarah was happy to be in law school, but she thought the whole damned family of professions needed to lighten up a bit. (It wasn't like they were having classes in courtrooms yet!)

Much to her astonished pleasure, Widget and Woobie were both seated on the floor, staring one another down for signs of cheating. Vix was not in evidence – it looked like only the two had come this afternoon.

"Woobie keeping close eye on Widg for lady-Sarah," Woobie announced sanctimoniously when Sarah appeared.

"Widget keeping eye on boggy-Woobie!" Widget retorted.

Sarah covered a smile and retrieved a pair of sugar cubes. "Thank you both for helping me out, and here are the prizes." The cubes were gone from her fingers a scant half-second after her hand opened.

"Lady-Sarah ready to go?" Woobie asked between crunching noises.

_Well, this is it._

"Yes, I suppose I'm… as ready as I'll ever be!" Sarah answered with a laugh. "Let's go say hello to the Supreme High… Cat Herder, was it?" Both goblins looked at her with blank faces. "The King. Let's go say hello to Jareth."

"Rightright!" Widget crowed, jumping up. "We take you to him," he announced as he grabbed Sarah's wrist with one knobby-jointed hand.

"Oh, wait! Hang on a – " She stopped as Widget lifted his feet from the ground and hung from her arm. "Erm, no… wait for me a moment, please. I need to get something, first."

"Oh." He let go, allowing her to collect the pumpkin pie from its place in the refrigerator and put it into a cardboard box.

"Alright, I'm ready now."

Both goblins' faces lit up with glee as they each grabbed onto one of her knees. Sarah drew breath to ask how they expected her to walk like that, but her words were lost in a rush of air past her ears as her apartment and the mortal world itself disappeared in a flash.

Coherent vision was returned to her a moment later, and she found herself surrounded by rolling copper pots, pans, and other utensils, and with a goblin still clinging to each leg.

The blonde figure across the room whipped around at the clatter their entrance had made, and stared at her, agog.

Jareth, King of the Goblins, was wearing his customary dove-grey breeches and foppish white shirt… and a ruffled cotton apron that would have looked like it came from some "home cooking" magazine (come to think of it, hadn't Karen had one like that once?), had it not been ripped, singed, and splotched with stains of every color imaginable. Sarah stood, a frozen statue, while her brain tried to catch up to what her eyes were telling it.

Then Jareth broke the silence.

"YOU IMBECILES!"

Sarah held her breath, trying desperately not to laugh.

Woobie squeaked in terror and tried to hide behind Sarah's leg. Widget did the same, but called out in a very tremulous voice, "Widget and Woobie bring lady-Sarah like Majesty ask. She here, now!"

"So you did… but do I not recall telling you NOT TO GO YET, and _specifically_ giving the two of you a hand-clock to tell you when to bring her?

Woobie poked a hand out from his attempted hiding place, proffering the pocketwatch. The points of its hands were, in fact, pointing to five o'clock… but they were bent rather dramatically, as if forced into position with a set of pliers. Or goblin fingers.

Disgusted, Jareth snatched the watch and hurled it into a wall. "Out of my sight, the both of you, before I recant my misguided attempt at generous goodwill and whisk you into the Bog."

"Yes, your Kingness!" Woobie screeched and ran, Widget hot on his heels. Sarah was left standing in the middle of the scattered pots, without the slightest clue what to make of this situation.

Jareth's eyes fixed on her. "Well? What are you looking at? Is my hair askew? Did one of those thrice-bedamned chickens leave feathers stuck to my boots?"

"Um, your… apron… is, well…" Sarah choked out, nearly losing the battle with laughter.

"This is what your mortal culinary artists – what do you call them? Iron Chefs? – wear, is it not?" He arched one winged eyebrow.

_Truly,_ Sarah thought, _diplomacy is the better part of valor_.

"Oh – yes, yes I suppose it is. I was just… surprised to see you using such a human… tool. And cooking."

"My subjects assured me that this garment came from a most esteemed and excellent source in your world, a culinarian widely renowned for some confectionary delicacy… 'Ricecrisspi Treats,' I believe it was."

The apron was _definitely _Karen's. And the rice crispy treats had been another poor choice in goblin bribery. Sarah could not quite contain the snort of laughter this time, but Jareth had busied himself with whisking the apron away and magically grooming his appearance, and thankfully did not seem to notice.

Turning back to her, he shook his head. "As for cooking, would _you_ trust a human meal to a goblin kitchen staff?"

"Put that way, I expect I wouldn't," she replied. "I – "

She stopped speaking when the smell of smoke and a surge of flame from one of the large, brick ovens presented a strong case against trusting a human meal to a goblin _monarch_, either.

"Oh, bugger me with a bog sprite." Jareth had noticed it too. "That was supposed to be dessert." He let out a martyred sigh and conjured a crystal, which he tossed into the offending oven. The flames went out.

Sarah held up her boxed pie, the situation now officially so surreal that her nervousness had fled. "I can help with that, I think. I made a pumpkin pie for dessert; it's one of my favorite classic Thanksgiving dishes."

Jareth eyed the box curiously, walking over to lift the lid and take a long, appreciative breath. "It smells positively delectable. And I have been remiss as a host, it seems, since my subjects saw fit to… surprise me… on the timing. Welcome to the Underground, my dear."

Sarah was rather amazed when he swept her a courtly bow, but much less so when he ended it with a mocking flourish of lace-ringed wrists.

_You can put a peacock in a pinafore, _she mused_, but the feathers still stick out everywhere._

Well, two could play at this game. She swept him an equally mocking curtsey, eyes upraised to his face. "I thank you for the invitation. I don't entirely think I want to know how you knew I'd be spending the holiday alone, though."

He chuckled, a velvet sound, and offered her his arm. "Then I'll be sure not to volunteer that information. Allow me to show you to the dining room – the regular kitchen staff can, at least, usually be trusted to convey the meal to the table."

* * *

Despite some trepidation seeded by Jareth's unidentified dessert mishap, a large and delicious-looking spread awaited them on a broad oak table in an airy tower dining room. Apparently goblin wait-staff could move when they needed to. Sarah suspected there had been many earlier threats of bogging involved in orchestrating this logistical miracle.

They took their seats across from one another and began to fill their plates. The food was… at first glance, it had looked like something out of a Norman Rockwell painting, the picture-perfect Thanksgiving Day spread. Upon closer inspection, it became apparent to Sarah that a few details of the recipes had been rather amusingly – but in most cases, tastily! – misunderstood. There were chopped green beans in the baked stuffing, and the ruby-red dish that Sarah had taken at first glance to be cranberry sauce turned out to be pomegranate seeds. The golden brown, crisp-skinned turkey was definitely a turkey, but instead of the traditional onion or apple, a well-roasted peach was stuffed inside.

_THAT was deliberate,_ Sarah thought, slightly irritated. Still, the slightly caramelized peach juice gave the turkey a wonderful flavor. The only dish that truly missed the mark and landed in the realm of the Just Plain Odd was the bowl of "sweet potatoes," which turned out to be normal mashed russets mixed with honey.

They spoke of strangely normal things – well, as normal as light conversation with the King of the Goblins could get, Sarah supposed – and both studiously avoided discussion of their various sorties over the last several years. Jareth was intrigued at the idea that Sarah was going to a school devoted to arguing and exploiting loopholes in a complicated system of rules, which when he put it that way, left her mildly disgruntled. And of course, he thought it was an absolutely perfect track of study for her.

She had to admit, it was a fairly accurate synopsis of the legal profession.

The evening proceeded with astounding smoothness for some hours, and Sarah found herself relaxing in Jareth's presence. He was _so_ much more pleasant when they weren't trading threats, bravado, or destructive pranks.

Finally, however, she could not hold back the question any longer. During a lull in the conversation after slices of pumpkin pie, she put down her fork and looked him directly in the eyes.

"Jareth, why?"

He studied her for a long moment, his lips quirked into a sardonic smile, and she had begun to wonder if he was just going to stare at her for the rest of the night when he spoke.

"Well, don't _you_ get tired of trading goblin-powered stench bombs and havoc, occasionally? I thought to… shake things up a bit, perhaps."

Sarah laughed. "What a sensible answer – far too sensible. I almost believe you, but I somehow think there's more to it than that."

He gave a haughty sniff, but the smile remained. "What I said was perfectly true. However, since you wish me to elaborate…. Let us say that I seem rather perversely afflicted with the human malady of 'hope,' of late. You were lonely. I am… usually lonely. The time seemed ripe for a change." He paused, smirk fading, and held her gaze. "Would you not agree?"

Taken somewhat aback, Sarah was at a loss for words for several seconds. His answer had been considerably more candid than she would ever have expected from the infuriating royal creature, and it gave her a quiet thrill as she appreciated the implications.

She replied slowly, doing her best to keep her voice steady. "I would definitely agree on that account, Jareth." Her heart did a cartwheel as he reached across the table to take her hand in one of his. He seemed about to say something else, but he paused instead, closing his mouth and listening intently.

Muffled, indignant squeaks were emanating from the paneling.

"OW! My ear!"

"My nose!"

"Can'tseecan'tseecan'tSEEEEEE!"

Jareth turned his head slowly toward the panel, his eyes murderous.

"Did he kiss her yet?"

Sarah blushed crimson to the roots of her hair.

Jareth drew breath as if to yell, but let it out in a long, melodramatic sigh instead. "So much for being generous," he said mildly. The whispers terminated in one loud screech, then fell abruptly silent. "They can contemplate their actions from the remote luxury of the Bog of Eternal Stench."

Her skin still burning, Sarah managed a laugh. "For once, I don't think I could possibly argue that they didn't deserve that!"

"Oh, I assure you, dear lady, they _always_ deserve it rather richly when I send them there. Do recall that you have only been hearing these great tales of tyranny and royal injustice from the little imps themselves all these years," he countered.

"…Fair enough," Sarah conceded wryly. "So… " she began, feeling like she needed to start working on disengaging. The goblins' last comment had her much more unbalanced than she would have liked. "Thank you again for the delicious dinner, and the company. It's getting late, and I really think – "

"Oh, Sarah, you are welcome, of course. Surely you will come again, sometime… often… yes?" His mismatched eyes twinkled as he smoothly cut her off.

"Um… I guess. I mean, yes – I'd love yo- I'd love that!"

"_Ex_cellent."

She stood, a bit shakily, and he rose with her as she realized that he still held her hand in his own gloved one.

"Well, back to law school and a pile of class work for me, I guess. The evening was lovely," she said, not quite sure how to gracefully ask him to send her home.

"Yes, indeed it was." There was laughter in his voice; he was not going to make it easy for her.

She sighed. "Please send me back to my apartment, now, Jareth; I need to be able to get up and get some work done in the morning."

"Kiss me first, beautiful Sarah, and I will send you home," he said with a grin.

Sarah gulped, then grew indignant. "What? You promised to send me home when I asked – you didn't put any other conditions on it!"

_Not that kissing him sounds like a bad idea at all, but it's the principle of the thing, damnit! _

He chuckled, infuriatingly smug. "Ahh… not quite, I'm afraid. I promised that I would return you to your home at the hour of your choosing, which – given my power over the relative flow of time between our worlds, I can do regardless of how long you seem to stay here. So I think I will wait until I get that kiss that my poor subjects will miss out on seeing."

_Oh, you smarmy ass. _Sarah's knee-jerk response was anger, but she reined herself back to calm. She'd been sure there would be a catch to the whole arrangement, and as catches went, this one was positively tame.

Still, she gave him a death-glare that would have made her fifteen year old self proud.

_Well, am I a would-be professional word-mincer, or not? _

"I have your word on that, then? Directly after I kiss you, you'll send me back to my apartment?"

"Of course, my dear," he murmured.

She took a half-step forward, face tilted upward toward him. His grin widened.

Still holding his eyes, she slowly lifted his hand and tugged off his glove, letting it fall to the table beside them. Jareth's brow furrowed in surprise.

Before he could find time to protest, she turned his hand over and placed a kiss in the center of his palm, on skin like molten silk. To Sarah's immense gratification, he exhaled sharply at the touch of her lips, and could not make his irritation at her interpretation of his demand completely convincing when he spoke.

"Minx. Come here!"

Sarah allowed herself an impish grin. "Oh no, I don't think so. I kissed you, as you asked – you just failed to specify _where_."

He hissed, his eyes narrowing… but then he laughed. "I suppose I, too, will have to be a bit more careful with the wording of an agreement next time, hmm?" His voice dropping to a low purr, he bent near her ear and concluded, "I won't make the same mistake again, precious, I assure you."

Sarah chuckled and nodded, as the world began to blur around her. "I'm sure you won't, Goblin King. Until next time!"

She caught one last glimpse of his customary smirk before the chaos around her solidified into the welcoming – if mundane – walls of her home.

_Well, THAT was a memorable Thanksgiving._

_

* * *

__A/N: And thus concludes this Thanksgiving Special. If you enjoyed the story, keep an eye out for future holiday shorts; I'm not making any promises now, but I think I would like to revisit this storyline with a sequel or three. ;) I am also writing an on-going, much longer, and more serious Labyrinth story called Talespinner. It's my main project right now, so if you haven't seen it yet and need something a bit thicker to sink your literary teeth into, have a look!_

_On that note, I am very much looking forward to getting back to that story. This humor piece was a lot of fun, but it was hard to get the last chapter out. Jareth is tapping me on the shoulder and telling me to get my sorry ass back to Talespinner because the portrayal of him there is much more accurate, and The Olive Branch offends his glittery dignity. TS will be returning ASAP - I'm aiming to get a new chapter out sometime in the coming week. _

_Thanks for reading! ~Dreamer In Silico  
_


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